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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112928">Jack of all trades</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyst/pseuds/beautifulcheat'>beautifulcheat (Katalyst)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex Manes is not safe for work, Fluff, Happy AU, It Isn't Working, M/M, Michael is trying to be professional, No established relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:08:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyst/pseuds/beautifulcheat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has a problem.  One Alex Manes, freshly moved back to Roswell, keeps showing up everywhere Michael works.  </p><p>Trouble is, Michael works, well... pretty much everywhere.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As always, thank you to my lovely fandom wife, ladynox. &lt;3  Stop giving me ideas.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Michael epically fails any attempt at professionalism</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Michael was no stranger to hustling or being hustled, in this town.  Roswell was just that kind of place.  </p><p>But he wasn’t sure what kind of hustle the half-dressed new guy was pulling.  </p><p>He was wearing a pair of black jeans that seemed to be clinging to his hips only by virtue of how tight they were, and an open button-up shirt.  If he’d ever been wearing an undershirt, it had been long lost by now, revealing gold-tanned skin and a, frankly, impressive body that was pretty rare on someone that wasn’t a complete douche in this town.  Dark, sweat-damp hair fell into his dark eyes, perfectly framed by arched brows.  And fuck, that mouth.  If he were Max, he’d be writing sonnets about how gorgeous and kissable it was.</p><p>He was here, quite obviously, with Liz Ortecho and Maria DeLuca -- the fact that DeLuca had even taken a night off from the Pony for this guy was pretty telling.  They were clearly acting as his wingmen, nudging him towards the dancefloor, spurring him on, buying rounds.  They’d been in for a couple hours by now, and Michael really, really didn’t know how he felt about it.</p><p>Mr. Gorgeous had taken a bit to get warmed up, but once he did, he was out on the dance floor, losing himself to the music in a way that was driving Michael fucking crazy.  All he knew was there was a gratuitous amount of eye contact and <em> way </em> too much gyrating and he should have been used to that, since he’d been slinging drinks at Planet 7 for over a year now, but this guy was on a completely different level.  </p><p>Like he’d have expected the guy would be looking for free drinks, but he clearly wasn’t, because he was buying them at a slow and steady pace, tipping <em> really </em> generously, and heading off to dance again.  </p><p>“Who the hell <em> is </em> that?”  He asked, leaning over to Blaire as he was polishing a glass.  Mr. Hotstuff was laughing at something his friends were saying, eyes mercifully off him for the moment.</p><p>“Hm?”  Blaire hummed, distracted, looking up from where she was running a card.  </p><p>“The hot guy here with DeLuca and Ortecho.”  Trying not to be <em> too </em> obvious about the fact that he was staring.  Staring back.  The hot dude started it.</p><p>As if he <em> knew </em> that Michael was thinking about him, hot guy was running his hand through his hair, looking back at Michael, with heated eyes and a wicked smile that had him barely hearing Blaire when she answered.  </p><p>“Can’t you just pull his card?” Blaire offered, unhelpfully.  <br/><br/>“...Won’t help, they’re drinking on Ortecho’s tab.”  He said, coming back to himself and snapping his towel at her, half-heartedly.  “Seriously, you have anything on him?”</p><p>“Dunno.  Some war hero, I guess?”  She said, shrugging.  “Maria said something about celebrating his return.  Take him a round of shooters if you’re so hot for him.”  Blaire’s grin was entirely unhelpful.  “You’re more tolerable when you’re getting laid.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”  He said lightly back to her with a grin, bumping her hip with his own, lightly. </p><p>War hero.  Michael racked his brain for a second, kind of remembering a parade that Izzy was putting together for some sort of war hero that he definitely slept through because it was on his only day off.  Wait.  <em> Oh shit </em>.  Was that one of the Manes kids?  He vaguely remembered a couple from school, though they always seemed to keep to themselves.  He definitely didn’t remember any of them being that gorgeous though.</p><p>Only one way to find out, he decided… and poured a round of meteor shower shooters. </p><p>“Hey Mikey!”  Liz greeted him, grinning widely.</p><p>“Stop it.”  He warned her, with a roll to his eyes.  The girl married his brother and somehow he became <em> Mikey </em> .  He couldn’t even throttle her over it because Max was stupid in love with her.  “On the house.”  He said, as he came over, with a tray full of shots, setting them down. “Liz, Maria and…”  <br/><br/>“Alex.”  Liz supplied, helpfully, her hands on Alex’s shoulders, squeezing.  “We are celebrating.”  <br/><br/>Michael raised an eyebrow.  “Celebrating?”  </p><p>“Our <em> very </em> best friend is getting out of the goddamned air force.”  Maria said, hugging Alex with one arm.  </p><p>“Only cost me half a leg.”  <br/><br/>“Alex!”  </p><p>“Oh, well.  Maybe I owe you another round, then.”  Michael said with a laugh that he hoped wasn’t too awkward, and desperately hoped they didn’t take him up on it, or Blaire would have his head.</p><p>“So your boss is giving free booze to the competition, now?  Guess she’s going soft?”  Maria asked, with a laugh.  </p><p>“You think you’re competition, DeLuca?”  Michael bantered back, winking, and grabbing the extra shot that he’d poured himself.  </p><p>“Oh, you better run, Guerin.”  She threatened lightly, to the laughter of their whole group.  Michael half-grinned, taking that shot, and retreated to the bar.  <em> Alex Manes </em>.  He vaguely remembered the kid, kind of quiet and serious, from the year he’d first moved here.  He got shipped off though, to military school, if memory served.  </p><p>Whatever.  He was here now and absolutely gorgeous.  If Michael had thought actually meeting him and learning hot stuff’s name would help, he was sorely mistaken.  Alex had been distracting before, now he was absolutely <em> maddening. </em>   If Michael hadn’t known that he was from the Air Force, he would assume the guy was a goddamned stripper the way that he was dancing, and still staring way, way too much.  And the <em> way </em> he was staring at Michael?  He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be stuffing those too-generous tips down Alex’s pants or what.  </p><p>Maybe that wasn’t the only thing he wanted to stuff down his pants. But god damnit, he was <em> working </em>.  He needed to get his head on straight.</p><p>“I’m taking my smoke break.”  He gritted out when Alex actually climbed <em> up on the table </em> at the encouragement of his friends, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and ignoring Blaire’s protests that a beer wasn’t a fucking cigarette and he didn’t even smoke anyway, as he headed out the back.</p><p>It was cool outside, the desert having a crisp edge at night, and Michael drank that cold air in, alternating it with sips of the ice cold beer. </p><p>The door banged open, behind him.  “I still got ten minutes!”  He called out, assuming Blaire had followed him.  </p><p>“Guess we better make this quick.”  God, that voice.  It was like molten honey, made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and he turned to look at Alex, conscious of the way he was licking his own lips. </p><p>“Oh.  Hey….”  God, he was not emotionally ready for this.</p><p>Alex stepped out of the doorway, with a positively sinful smile on his lips, crowded right up against Michael.  And fuck it, all he wanted to do was kiss those lips, then sink right down to his knees and get his mouth on this guy’s dick.</p><p>Which is exactly what he did.  After all, no one ever said that Michael was good at impulse control.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michael had a problem.  Alex Manes was taking up a <em> lot </em> of mental real estate.  Michael kept slipping off into daydreams featuring his mouth, or his fingers twined up in Michael’s hair, tugging it exactly right as Michael swallowed him down.  It was distracting, to say the least, and a random hard on might be ignored or even get him an extra tip or two at Planet 7, but that wasn’t his only damned job.</p><p>Normally, he’d just go scratch that itch again.  After all, second night hookups always paled in comparison to the first rush, right?  Demystify the whole thing and it would stop haunting him.  Unfortunately, it was pretty obvious that Manes wasn’t interested.  In the month since they hooked up behind the bar, he hadn’t been by Planet 7 once.  Michael chalked it up to one of those increasingly infrequent one night stands that he indulged in here and there.  Hot, short, and destined never to be repeated except in late night fantasies, all alone.  Nice in the moment, but ultimately empty -- and Michael was secure enough to admit to himself that no matter how distracting he found Mr. War Hero, he didn’t want to have to chase down his random hookups.  He wanted more than that. Maybe even the whole package.</p><p>The next time he saw Alex Manes, it was pure coincidence.  Well maybe not coincidence exactly, considering that there was still really only one highway in and out of Roswell, and only a couple companies with a tow truck.  Just so happened that the AAA call got routed to him and Sanders.</p><p>Dumb fucking luck, he thought, as he pulled up and saw Manes on the side of the road, on his phone. Alex was sweating, annoyed-looking and somehow more gorgeous than Michael remembered.  He looked… different, out in the real world, away from the sweat and glitter of Planet 7.  Harder angles to his jaw, more sharpness in his eyes.  A little more dangerous.  Whatever it was, it was still <em> doing </em> it for Michael.  Maybe even moreso.  God damnit. </p><p>“You called for a tow?”  He asked, as he slid out of the truck, walking around it to greet him and reminding himself <em> and </em> his cock, sternly, to be <em> professional </em>.  </p><p>“Yeah, it just died…”  Manes started, then trailed off as he obviously remembered Michael, eyes widening, mouth going slack before tightening a little.  Too bad it was hot enough still that he couldn’t tell if that flush to Alex’s cheeks was the heat radiating off the highway or Alex remembering their hookup as fondly as Michael did.</p><p><em> Well good </em> .  Michael thought, trying to keep the smugness off his face.  <em> At least it was memorable. </em></p><p>“All right.”  He nods.  “Hate to ask the obvious question, but… you’re not out of gas, right?”  </p><p>Manes looked downright offended.  “I’m not an idiot.”  </p><p>Michael laughed, holding up his hands.  “Look, no judgment if you were.  You’d be surprised how often it happens.  Malfunctioning gas gauges, really distracting podcasts.  Heard it all.  Let me get her hooked up and I’ll give you a ride back into town, all right?  Least you can do is cool off with a beer while I diagnose her.”  </p><p>He looked a bit unsure, looking Michael over, appraisingly, critically.  “So you not only sling shots and drive a tow truck, but you’re also a mechanic.”  </p><p>“Best in the state.”  Michael winked at him.  “Keys?”  </p><p>“Here.”  Alex looked unconvinced but he dug them out of a pocket, handing them over, and let Michael get to work.  Of course, Michael was keenly aware of Alex staring at him the whole time.</p><p>
  <em> Don’t read into it, idiot.  Everyone watches you hook up the car.  Probably just worried you’re gonna ding the paint, not checking out your ass. </em>
</p><p>Well, whatever.  Michael was good at his job, and he had the car up in short order, waving for Alex to climb up in the cab of the tow truck, and he didn’t miss how Alex wrinkled his nose a bit at the worn seats and peeling dash.  But at least the a/c worked and it was comfortable and clean enough.</p><p>A few minutes passed in silence, as he drove.  </p><p>“You moving?”  He asked.  He hadn’t missed that the back of that sensible grey Explorer had been packed with boxes.  </p><p>“Uh.  Yeah.”  Alex glanced over at him, a little wariness in his eyes.  “I was stationed at Holloman.  Now that I’m out, I figured I’d come back home for a bit while I figured stuff out.”  </p><p>“Oh yeah?”  Michael looked over at him… and looked <em> over </em> him, suggestively.  Alex squirmed in his seat a little, uncomfortable.</p><p>“Yeah.”  He said, in a tone that warned Michael to drop it. </p><p>Fucking great.  Of course he had to get hung up on one of those closeted military kids.  He sighed, shifting his eyes back on the road and resolved to let it be.</p><p>“Well.  Pony’s a good regular watering hole.  DeLuca chases me out half the time because I work for the competition, but most of the town ends up there any given night. Nailed It’s a pretty good hardware store if you wanna shop local.  And you can get a mean curry from Prasong over at Thai Me Up.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, what did you say?”  Alex asked, with the air of someone who had only been half-listening and then tuned in at the absolute wrong moment.  Or maybe the right moment.  Michael grinned slowly, and looked over at him.  </p><p>“Thai Me Up.”  He repeated, delighting in the way that Alex’s eyes darkened, his lips parted, and if he weren’t driving at the time, he’d be taking full advantage.  “What can I say.  Everyone in this town loves a bad pun, and the restaurants are no exception.  Usually they’re about aliens, but…”  He trailed off, with a shrug.</p><p>“Right.”  Closeted or not, Alex was definitely thinking about it, with the way that he was still staring at Michael. Tying, not Thai food.  That felt like some kind of small vindication, and hell if Michael wasn’t going to savor it.</p><p>“Where should I drop you off?”  He asked.  “Probably take me a couple hours to figure out what the problem is, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to wait around in the junkyard.”  </p><p>“Oh.  Um… the Pony would be fine.”  Alex said, shifting to look out the window, as they were heading into town.  </p><p>“Hey, I promise I’m not gonna take you to the cleaners on your car, you don’t <em> have </em> to be day drinking.”  </p><p>Alex laughed, just a little and shook his head.  “Maria’s got the keys to my new place.  She was keeping an eye on it, while I was getting packed up.”</p><p>Oh, right.  He and DeLuca were friends.  </p><p>“Pony it is.”  Michael said, nodding and heading that way, letting the conversation lapse back into awkward silence.</p><p>The Pony’s lot was mostly deserted this time of day, which made pulling in there with a load a hell of a lot easier.  Michael threw the truck in park, then grabbed the pad.  “Here.  Just need you to sign here to authorize the diagnostic.  Need anything out of the back?”</p><p>Alex shook his head.  “I’ll grab my bag out of the front though.”</p><p>“Right.”  He nodded.  “I left the doors unlocked, so you can poke your head in if you’re careful.  Can I get your number?”</p><p>Alex looked back up at him, with a raised eyebrow, and Michael realized that Alex thought he was hitting on him.</p><p>“To call when I’ve figured out the problem?”  He prodded a bit, and pointed out the line for it on the form.  </p><p>“Oh.  Right.”  Alex scrawled it in -- an area code Michael hadn’t ever heard of before.  “Switching to a local number soon, but this’ll be good for at least a couple days.”  </p><p>“Sounds good.”  Michael nodded.  “Call you as soon as I figure out the problem.”  </p><p>Alex nodded, climbed out of the truck and went to grab his bag.  Michael watched him in the tow truck’s mirrors just a hair too long, before he drove out of the lot.</p><p>Fucking hell, this guy was gonna be bad for his concentration.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michael woke from a doze up to a knocking on the door of the Airstream.  It was a hot, slow day at the junkyard, nothing to do but replace the fuel pump on Alex’s Explorer.  A pretty straightforward job that didn’t take the whole day, so Michael had been lazing around, half-reading, and waiting for Manes to come pick the car up.</p><p>“One sec!”  He called out, tossing the book aside, and getting up, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair and going to open the door. </p><p>And of course Manes was there, looking like a whole goddamned meal.  It took all of Michael’s self-control to not strip off his shirt, pull Alex up into the airstream, and beg to be fucked into that cheap, hard mattress.</p><p><em> Professional </em>.  Ugh.  He quickly hopped down out of the trailer, so that Alex wasn’t basically eyeline with his semi.  </p><p>“Hey.”  He settled on, instead.  “Lemme ring you up and get your keys.” </p><p>“You… live here?”  Alex asked as he trailed after Michael, over to the till.</p><p>“Cheap rent.”  He shrugged, as he went to pull Alex’s invoice, handing it over.  “Damage is five hundred, even.”  </p><p>“Sanders said six twenty on the phone?”  Alex asked, frowning.</p><p>Ah, crap, he should have known Sanders would try to charge him full price, and normally, he’d be on board with that, but...  he shook his head.  “Nah.  Giving you the new guy discount.”  </p><p>“Look, I don’t need you to cut me a break.”  Alex started, a note of defensiveness in his voice.</p><p>“It’s not charity.  I had a used part in the back, and it took less time than usual.  Take the win, all right, Manes?”</p><p>“If this is some kind of come-on--”  </p><p>Michael laughed, disbelieving and a bit offended, honestly, even if the fact that Alex Manes had an ass to die for and a body that would make an angel cry <em> might </em> have factored into the price, just a little.  “Christ, Manes.  If you want to pay full price for a used part, that’s your prerogative.  Just trying to take care of my customers.  Places like this die without repeat business.”  </p><p>Alex looked suspicious for a moment, then sighed.  “All right.  I appreciate it.”  He said, with a nod, handing the money over. </p><p>Michael rang him up, handing over the keys.  “You’ll be due for an oil change soon, by the way.  Happy to take care of that when you’re ready for it.  And your tires could stand a rotate.  When’d you get it serviced last?”  </p><p>Alex was staring at him.  And fuck if he didn’t know that look.  He only barely kept himself from cocking his head over at the Airstream, and he was proud of his self control.  Their thing at Planet 7 had been a fantastic one-off, but he was pretty sure this guy wasn’t looking for anything more.</p><p>“Um.  Not really sure, honestly.”  He said, slowly, fiddling with his keys some.  “It’s new.  I mean, new to me.”</p><p>“Fair enough.”  Michael nodded.  “Well.  Whenever you need something.”</p><p>“Okay.  Thanks.”  Alex nodded, turning to go… and then turning right back and hauling Michael into a kiss just the right shade of bruising.  </p><p>Oh <em> fuck </em>.  He was so, so fucked.  But that didn’t matter, because hot stuff’s hands were on his hips and he was following Michael, easily, as he backed toward the Airstream.  </p><p>And so what if Alex hadn’t lingered, after?  The sex was <em> epic </em>.  Honestly, he didn’t mind being a booty call if it was gonna be like that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Michael manages to be a little bit more professional</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Of all his jobs, he probably actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> the garden center the best.  The smell of plants and dirt just felt like home, somehow.  And a couple years ago he’d figured out a new power, something that, though fun, was pretty fucking useless most of the time, except at this job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could persuade plants to grow, strengthen them when they were weak, nurse them back to health with a touch when they were wilting.  Nudge them to bloom, even the most stubborn of them.  And so he’d gotten the job here, and ever since the garden center had the healthiest plants in the state.  Kind of a hidden gem among the houseplant circles, from the excited gossip he’d gotten from instagram junkies, wanna be influencers, and facebook moms who actually drove hours to get there and pore over their selection of monstera deliciosa and ficus lyrata and hoya carnosa that were actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>in bloom</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can not be serious.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael took a breath, looking up from the display of grasses he was working on, right into the face of Mr. Hot Stuff, Alex Manes, himself.  Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but laugh, and take a breath, shaking his head.  “Hey, hot stuff.”   He couldn’t resist.  Alex’s hot-honey voice, perfect body, and breathless laugh had haunted his dreams for long enough that he deserved a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex reddened a bit, but maintained admirable control.  Annoying control.  God, Michael wanted to kiss any semblance of that off his face, get Alex to fuck him over the bags of potting soil.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professional, Guerin, keep it fucking together. You can not keep fucking this guy while you’re working.  Three strikes and you’re out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously.  How are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, too?  Are you somehow preemptively psychically stalking me?”  Alex asked.  “Since I’ve moved back I have seen you more than the people I actually know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And more </span>
  </em>
  <span>of</span>
  <em>
    <span> me.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michael thought, to himself, smoothing his hands on the unflattering standard issue garden center apron, trying to remind himself that there was no reason to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right now.  “If I could see the future, I’d be buying a lot more lottery tickets, not stalking cute but closeted war heroes.  What brings you in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex gave him a flat look -- more of that annoying fucking control, not rising to that bait -- and gestured around them.  “Plants.”  As if it wasn’t obvious, considering the fact that they were standing in a garden center.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”  Michael said, nodding, as if Alex had just said something profound.  “Any particular kind?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex took a breath.  “Look, I don’t know.  All I know is Maria and Liz think my apartment is “depressing” and “could use something green” and I ended up here.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so a houseplant.  Over here.  How good are you with plants?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…. have spent the majority of the last decade in a desert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t we all?”  Michael said, dryly, gesturing vaguely around them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed and it felt like some kind of reward.  Like he was finally, finally letting his guard down and relaxing.  “Fair.  That’s fair.  Let’s say whatever your beginner level is and then take like 50% off of that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”  Michael grinned, waved for Alex to follow him over to the houseplant section.  “How’s the light in your place?”  He asked and desperately hoped it sounded nonchalant and not like he was angling for information about Alex’s place.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I.. honestly don’t know how to answer that question.  It’s okay, I guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, like on a scale from noonday sun to noon at the Pony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can read a book comfortably, have to close the blinds to watch TV?”  Alex supplied, looking over the neat rows of trailing pothos and spiky snake plants.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nodded.  “Okay.  See anything you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could swear that Alex’s eyes lingered on him for a half a beat at that question.  But then he reached out, picking up a phalaenopsis.  “How about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael wasn’t terribly surprised.  After all, everyone gravitated toward their showy zen-like flowers, and if anyone could use some zen, Manes certainly could.  He nodded.  “Yeah, orchids are pretty forgiving, surprisingly.  Not bad for a first time plant, especially if you want flowers indoors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?  I always heard they were a pain.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head.  “Slander.”  Michael said, lightly.  “They get a bad rap because they lose their flowers eventually and aren’t super easy to force into bloom.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex was studying the plant, humming.  “You just water them with an ice cube?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael could feel the horror come over his face.  “What?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Please.  Never. Do. That.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex raised an eyebrow, pulling the tag on the plant up to show it to him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god.”  He said, grabbing the plant.  “I thought I burned all these damned tags.  The greenhouse that sends them seems to think that all their orchids are going to the same people who throw them out when they stop flowering because they think they’ve died.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed.  “What makes you so sure I won’t?  I’m telling you.  Never had any sort of plant, before.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now you know better.  And if you’ve got questions, you can stop by, ask them.”  He said, nonchalant.   “Just this?  The Zamioculcas -- uh zz plant -- is pretty hard to kill.  Doesn’t need so much light.  And pothos are easy as shit too?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Load them all up.”  Alex said.  “And any others that you think I won’t kill.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael raised an eyebrow.  “Wow, DeLuca really got to you about the depressing thing.  Well.  I hear that there’s nothing better for putting down roots than a houseplant or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Putting down roots.”  Alex said, as if unsure that’s what he really wanted.  Frowning a little as he touched one of the plants that Michael grabbed off a shelf.  “Do you have a return policy?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thirty days, dead or alive.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep them alive, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex ducked his head a bit, laughed.  “Yeah, obviously.  Um… probably should get going.  Smells like rain.  I think a storm’s coming in, and I left my windows open.  Place was smoky.”  He said, at Michael’s questioning look.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burning dinner already?”  He said, as they headed back over to the register to ring Alex up. Subtly shifting a little power into the plants, strengthening them, as his hands passed over them and he scanned their codes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shook his head.  “Cedar and herbs.”  He said, simply, letting Michael fill in the blanks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotcha.”  He nodded, taking Alex’s card as he handed it over.  “So, real quick… with the orchid, you want to let this dry out between waterings, then soak it, like once every week or two.  Don’t bother watering it from above, just fill the decorative pot with water, let it sit in there for a good fifteen minutes or so, then pull it.  And keep it somewhere with bright light, but not right in the sun.  No windowsills or anything unless they’re shaded.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said they were easy.”  Alex said, dryly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are.”  Michael said, quickly.  “Just different.  The others are a bit more like your traditional houseplant. They don’t need too much light.  Try not to overwater any of them and you’ll be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”  Alex said, with a smile.  “Thanks.  I’ll report back in a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, that smile </span>
  <em>
    <span>did things</span>
  </em>
  <span> to his stomach.  Not just his stomach.  Michael smiled back at him.  “Good.  All right.  I’ll uh… see you around.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Alex nodded, and turned to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yeah, that ass was every bit as good as he remembered it.  Maybe better.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he deserved a medal for actually managing not to tap it, this time around.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was another couple weeks before he heard Alex’s voice again, this time while Michael was behind the bar at the Pony, replacing a few regulators on Maria’s tap lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re like a damn bad penny, Guerin.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at Alex… laughing.  “I could say the same about you, you know.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s still a pretty damn small town.”  He said, and turned to Maria as she approached.  “Hey.”  Leaning over the bar to kiss her cheek.  “Usual?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it, babe.”  Maria said, with a smile, going to fish a bottle out of the fridge and hand it over to him. Michael turned back to finish hooking up the regulators, and he could swear he could see her nudge Alex out of the corner of his eye.  God, he shouldn’t be jealous of that easy camaraderie, but it was hard not to be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I gotta ask.”  Alex started, conversationally, as Michael straightened again, wiping his hands off.  “How many jobs </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have?  Where else am I liable to run into you?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three.”  Michael answered.  “Well, four.  Technically five, depending on the time of year.”  He laughed, and it sounded awkward, even to his own ears, so he fell back on familiar territory, pulling out a business card.  “Handyman.  You know, in case your bed frame has a mysterious creak that needs fixing.”  He said, with a wink that wasn’t in any way practiced.  Definitely not a pickup he’d used more than once before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex took the card, barely holding back a smile and raising an eyebrow.  “Okay, so that’s four…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I pick up shifts out at Foster Ranch, when they have work for me.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he used to hustle pool here until I told him to knock it off.”  Maria supplied, unhelpfully, from behind the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was winning too much.”  Michael dared to lean in and whisper it, fake-secret like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria rolled her eyes.  “He was getting punched too much, and I don’t want to pay a bouncer just to keep Guerin’s teeth all in his head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael grinned at her.  “Roundabout way to tell me you like my smile.”  Winking at her, just to get the eye roll out of her.  Maria had some of the best eye rolls in the city.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you’re the only handyman in a fifty mile radius who knows how to wear a belt to keep his pants up and who lets me pay him in tab credit.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you could just pay me to work here, DeLuca. I got a day or two open in my schedule, and then your tap lines would never go down </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’d never have a tab.”  Michael grinned at her.  It was a well-worn line.  “Win-win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I am not sharing you with Blaire.”  Maria said, lightly.  “You work all the good shifts over at Planet 7, already.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.”  Michael grabbed a glass and filled it off the tap, ignoring Maria’s noise of outraged protest.  “Gotta test out the work, right?”  Taking a deep drink of it and flashing her a thumbs up.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed, but Michael could feel his eyes on him the whole time, speculative.  “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you work so much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh.”  Michael shrugged, going to plop down on the barstool next to Alex, while Maria stepped away to grab something for Hank, down the way.  “No real reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on.”  Alex said.  “I’ve seen where you live.  You’re working five jobs and living in a trailer.  Seems like you’re saving up for something?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh, of course the hot new guy had to be great in bed </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> perceptive.  Michael found himself actually wanting to tell him.  He finished the beer off… and Maria wasn’t looking, so he leaned over the bar to give himself a refill on that beer while he thought about how to put it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I was a kid, right before high school graduation, I had a family emergency.  Had to pass up a scholarship to UNM to take care of it.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  I’m sorry.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shook his head a little.  “It worked out in the end.  It was fine.  But I always kind of regretted not going.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saving up for college.”  Alex said, slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Michael admitted, conscious of the way Maria had turned to rub down that bar a little too carefully.  She was listening, speculatively, even though she was clearly pretending not to.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what for?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agricultural engineering,”  Michael admitted, toying with his glass a bit.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really.”  Alex looked at him, tilting his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nodded.  “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.  I guess that kind of explains why you’re working with the plants and at the -- the junkyard.”  Alex said, stumbling over it, and he was definitely flushing a bit, something that Michael found fascinating.  “So… what about Planet 7?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, I just do that for fun.”  He said, with a laugh.  “And DeLuca’s stingy with the good stuff.   Speaking of, ‘bout time for my shift.”  He said, winking at Maria, who was looking up at him, exasperated.  “See you later.”  He drained his beer, tossed a tip on the bar, and winked at Manes as he headed for the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s like the most words I’ve ever heard Guerin put together.”  He heard Maria saying to Alex, as he left.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the tail end of foaling season out at the ranch, so Michael had been picking up some shifts on his free days to help get the babies used to being touched, groomed, and led gently.  It took time to teach them to trust humans and respect them.  It was some of the easier work on the ranch, and it was definitely some of the most enjoyable.  Michael got along well with animals, way better than he did with people, sometimes.  He didn’t have to keep anything back from them, and they were honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping I’d find you here.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael smiled… stroking the baby with the gentle brush, once more, trying not to look too eager or smug as he turned around.  “Hey.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex was leaning against the stall door, with a sweet smile, lacking that trademark layer of sass, his eyes all warm.  God, Michael could drown in those eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maria said you were adorable with baby animals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael raised an eyebrow, laughed a little.  Apparently they were talking about him?  “Did you just come to oogle me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I actually had some business.”  Alex said.  “But you know, if you need to keep going.”  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Nah, she’s doing great.  I think I can give her a break for today.”  Michael said, softly, reaching to pet her head once more, then her mother’s, reassuringly, as he got up.  “What’s up?”  Heading out of the stall, latching it behind himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex took a breath.  “I used to like hiking and camping, before I got blown up.  Can’t go as far as I like, anymore, and I thought I might want to look into horseback riding.”  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Huh.”  Michael said, thoughtfully.  Whatever he expected Alex’s business to be, that wasn’t it.  “We don’t really do riding tours here.  More of a dairy ranch.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I know that.  But I figured if I needed any sort of accessibility modifications, you’d be the guy to go to.”  He hesitated for a second.  “And… other than Liz and Maria I don’t really have a lot of friends in this town.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.  Well.  Alex thought of him as a friend?  He supposed that was something he could live with.  Usually he fell into the random hookup category, not the friends with benefits category.  “Me neither.”  Michael admitted, slowly.  “I’d have to ask Old Man Foster, but it shouldn’t be a problem. You ride much before it happened?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shook his head.  “Nope. Not at all.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nodded a little.  “All right.  No bad habits to unlearn then, and I don’t mind teaching you.  Do you have Mondays free?”    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Alex said, with a smile that took his breath away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  Gimme a few days to talk to the old man and do some research?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Research?  Never taught someone to ride before?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Usually green ranch hands.  Dumb kids with more muscle than brain.  But not an amputee.”  He said, with a shake to his head.  “See if there’s anything I can or should rig up for you, just in case.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”  Alex said, with a nod.  “Got something to write on?  Finally got my new number.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael grabbed his phone.  “What are we, in the 80s?”  He got Alex’s number -- and maybe added a couple not-so-safe-for-work emoji to the contact name before he saved it.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which everything goes off the rails in all the right ways</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Getting Alex on a horse was surprisingly easy.  Not a lot of modifications needed to be made -- the only thing Michael had modified was a stirrup for safety, so that Alex’s prosthetic wouldn’t get stuck in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex was smart, listened well, and they’d graduated quickly from a fenced pasture to trail riding.  And it was a sweet gig, getting paid to hang out with Manes.  A </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> sweet gig.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d taken the horses out to Bitter Lake, this time, and honestly Michael was starting to feel weird about charging the guy. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t a fucking date.  His relationship with Alex Manes was strictly professional, friendly -- even if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> hooked up a couple times. It was getting hard to keep it straight though -- Alex was turning out to be exactly his type.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex had the ability to sit in silence and not make it awkward, leading to an easy camaraderie as they took in the sunset, Michael occasionally pointing out cool wildlife.  When he did talk, it was a combination of sass, roasting, and wit that always took him by surprise.  If he wasn’t careful, he’d be in love before he knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing tonight?”  Alex asked, out of the blue, as they were heading back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael looked over at him, curiously.  “No real plans.  Why?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No reason.”  Alex said, too nonchalantly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, he knew Alex’s hiding-something face.  He had it on every time the prosthetic had chafed before they figured out how to adjust it right, or they’d simply gone too long and Alex was sore from using a new muscle group consistently. “Spit it out.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looked over at him, and Michael could swear he actually looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  “This uh… dating thing is kind of new to me.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?  That what we’re doing, Manes?”  He asked, hearing the sarcastic amusement in his own voice that reeked of defensiveness.  Unwarranted defensiveness, and he tried to remind himself to knock it off. Just because he was dangerously close to catching feelings didn’t mean he needed to automatically suspect Alex of having some kind of ulterior motive.   </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Alex.”  He said, quickly, as if he didn’t want to be associated with that name.  “I dunno.  Is that something you’d be okay with?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael was quiet for a minute, looking down at the horse’s reins in his hand, dealing with a flood of some kind of emotion.  Hope maybe?  Yeah, that felt suspiciously like hope.  “Kind of thought you just wanted to hook up?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I mean no.  I mean…”  Alex made a face. “I don’t know.  I like you.  I like hanging out with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it too.”  Michael admitted, and fuck if it wasn’t hard just to say that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looked relieved.  “Okay.  Good.  So.  I was thinking.  I still haven’t gotten to that Thai place you mentioned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thai Me Up?”  He asked, feeling a smiling breaking out on his face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Thai You Up.”  Alex said, blithely changing the restaurant name with a mischievous grin.  “I hear they make a mean curry, and I like it spicy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael stared after him for a minute, before laughing, and nudging his horse on.  “Well, let’s get a move on.  I’m starving.  My treat.”  At least he could assuage his guilt about bilking Alex out of his money just because Michael liked hanging out with him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t believe he was on a date with Alex fucking Manes.  Finally.  Finally they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>hanging out</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he wasn’t on the clock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why the fuck was he so nervous?  Michael fumbled to open the door for Alex at the restaurant.  Since when did he get sweaty palms?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.  The owner is just being completely public with their kinks, aren’t they?”  Alex said dryly as he looked around the restaurant.  When Prasong had bought the place a couple years ago, he had remodeled -- Michael had been in on that job, which might, in part, explain his partiality to the place.  Prasong had really leaned into the dirty pun, but not in a creepy way.  The interior was bright and light, with white walls framed by dark wood mouldings and intricately woven, multicolored ropes separating the booths.  The bar was tiled in green glass that caught the light and made the modest selection of bottles sparkle.  But Michael’s favorite part had to be the living wall around a large open window, full of bromeliads and ferns and orchids that Michael had helped install, and might nudge here and there to keep healthy and blooming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was glad their first date was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It was home turf, in a weird way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael laughed.  “Yeah. Apparently you can get a bulk discount on bondage gear, if you’re ever planning on following suit.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael!”  Prasong called from behind the bar, waving.  Just waving his hand.  Michael was in often enough that he knew that meant ‘sit anywhere,’ and on a Monday evening, they basically had their pick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael steered them toward his favorite table, under a window and near the living wall, knowing that Prasong would be over to take their order soon enough.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So other than the curry, what do you like here?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it spicy, so you can’t go wrong with the drunken noodles.  It’s what I usually get.  And when I’m in the mood to splurge, I grab the Thai sabai.  Prasong charges way too much, in my opinion, because Mekhong is cheap, but.”  He shrugs. “They hit the spot.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”  Alex nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Menus.”  Prasong was handing them over the table, giving them both a look that was just a little too knowing.  Michael flushed some.  God, he was wound up, nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, man.”  He smiled at him, and saw how Prasong got a speculative look in his eyes.  God.  The man was worse than his sister.  “I’ll just have the usual, and a drink.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looked over the menu, quickly, ordering a red curry and a Singha. Prasong nodded at them, heading back to the kitchen to put in the order, and was back with their drinks a few minutes later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he brought Michael a double.  Fucking Prasong.  Really earning those freebies.  Maybe even a tip, since Michael was unexpectedly flush, right now; Alex’s money was burning a guilty hole in his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.”  Michael started.  “You know what I do for a living--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex snorted.  “I think it’d be simpler to list what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do for a living.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael laughed.  God. “Fair.  Anyway.  What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> do?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex paused for a minute.  “Right now?  Nothing.  I have enough saved up from my time as an airman to give myself some space.  Figure out if I can make things work.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael stirred his drink a little with the cocktail pick (of course adorned with multicolored bamboo woven into a rope pattern.  Prasong was not subtle).  “Make what work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looked nervous.  “Music.  I want to be a musician.”  He said all in one breath, as if it was something to be ashamed of.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking hell.  Every time he thought Alex couldn’t get more perfect, he was proven wrong.  He could feel the soft smile on his face.  “That’s awesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”  Alex sounded uncertain.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Michael nodded.  “What do you play?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mostly keyboard.  Some guitar.  And I write my own stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised DeLuca hasn’t hassled you into open mic yet.”  Michael said, lightly.  He hadn’t been to the last one, filling in last-minute at Planet 7, but he knows he would have heard through the grapevine if a new hot guy were performing.  Even if Alex were bad at it, but Michael got the feeling he wasn’t bad, at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged, laughing as their food arrived.  “She’s tried.”  He admitted, thanking Prasong, picking up his fork and diving into the curry, with the air of someone who desperately wanted to stop talking and feared no food, at least none in Roswell.  Two seconds later, he was coughing.  Ah, hubris.  Michael was laughing, and nudging his beer over to him, feeling that knot of nervousness easing in his chest.  And maybe that was Prasong’s goal the whole time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry.  Should have warned you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.”  He said, a little strangled, eyes watering.  But he was laughing, so that was good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s too hot, I can get you something different?  I promise I won’t let him make fun of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I can handle it.”  Alex protested.  “I just didn’t expect it to get something with so much… flavor in this city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prasong once told me, before </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my tastebuds were burned off, that he ‘didn’t believe in white people’”  Michael grinned.  “But he’s hands-down the best cook in the county.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex took another bite -- a lot more cautious this time.  They fell back into easy conversation -- A surprisingly easy back and forth.  He learned more about Alex’s work as a code-breaker, about how he’d been deployed for the better part of the last decade and hadn’t really been able to keep in touch with anyone, aside from a few letters.  And then the topic had drifted from DeLuca and Ortecho, naturally, to Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait.”  Alex stopped him.  “Your brother is Max Evans?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Michael nodded -- onto his second Thai sabai by then.  “Not technically by blood but we’re close enough for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god!”  Alex burst out.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you were so familiar!  At Planet 7, I was trying to figure it out…. I remember you from the wedding pictures Liz sent.  You were the guy who could </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep it together for five minutes to take a decent picture.  The one in the hat.  Who wears a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cowboy hat</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a wedding, man?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael groaned, and thanked fuck that Prasong had a heavy pour. “Well.  Mystery solved.  I guess it was a good run.  I hope you remember me fondly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex rolled his eyes.  “Oh there are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>few</span>
  </em>
  <span> more mysteries I’m willing to stick around for.”  Tilting his head.  “How did you get away with all that without being murdered?  I mean.  I know Liz.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Surprisingly, Liz thought it was cute.  Max wore his hat and he was making faces in half the pictures too.  I’m pretty sure you only saw the ones when he got distracted, mooning over Liz.  Our sister, on the other hand, Izzy… drove her crazy.”  He smiled, shaking his head. “She was seriously about to murder me.  You’re lucky I’m standing here now.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I am.  I wish I’d been there.”  Alex said, wistfully, looking at him with a slow smile.  “Coulda gone home with a sexy groomsman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”  Michael flushed, taking a breath, about to say something, probably something really stupid, but he was saved by Prasong dropping off the check.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of the rare times that Michael actually paid, in cash, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> tipped generously, and Prasong was practically smirking as he took the check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they found their way out of the restaurant, Alex’s hand rested on Michael’s arm, gently.  “I’ll call you?”  He promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nodded, holding his breath just a bit.  God, he wanted to kiss him. "Yeah. I'd like that. We still on for riding next week? No charge. Just.." He didn't want to lose their weekly not-date just because they were going on real dates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two days and at least a dozen texts between them later and Michael was slowly going crazy.  He needed to see Alex again… enough that he ditched his shift at Sanders' and headed over there. The old man would understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really,</span>
  <em>
    <span> really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoped Alex wouldn’t take this the wrong way.  The fact that he’d bribed Maria for Alex’s address could either be read as cute or </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> creepy.  He was hoping Alex would land on cute, as he rang the other’s bell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a minute before Michael heard movement, shuffling steps and the soft thunk of Alex’s crutch, coming up to the door.  He was conscious of eyes on him through the peephole for a minute, before the door was pulled open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael.”  Alex looked startled -- and he clearly wasn’t prepared for guests, wearing a pair of joggers and nothing else, looking adorably sleep-rumpled.  “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has been exactly five weeks since you came in to buy plants.”  Michael said, lightly.  “And since you haven’t brought their desiccated corpses back for a refund, I figure this calls for a celebratory drink.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s eyes widened… really taking in Michael, the bottle of champagne in his hand.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess a housewarming was overdue anyway.”  He said, with a laugh, and stepped aside, waving Michael in.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I catch you napping?”  Michael asked, as he followed Alex in.  Eyes greedily taking in the place.  Perfectly neat and clean, a little bland.  All in those beiges and browns that were supposed to be appealing to a wide range of people and really ended up satisfying no one.  If Isobel were here, she’d have plenty to say about it.  Still, there were bits of Alex’s personality littered around.  Some art that definitely wasn’t off the Bed, Bath, and Beyond rack, looked like something he might have picked up in Afghanistan, a few throw pillows that might have been donated from Maria or bought at a local thrift store.  A rug that looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he got the sense that it wasn’t just something Alex had bought at the rez -- it had the feel of a family heirloom, as did the blanket artfully draped over the arm of the couch that was more clean lines than comfort.  And there was a whole wall, under a window, devoted to music.  Michael’s eyes lingered there in particular, daydreaming idly about Alex’s gorgeous hands gliding over the keyboard.  About him picking up the guitar to accompany Alex.  God, he had it </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex smiled.. Flipping on the kitchen light.  “Yeah.  No worries though.  I think I fell asleep because I was bored, more than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael made a show of inspecting the plants -- which were, surprisingly, just as healthy as they had been when they’d left the store.  “Glad to break up the monotony.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The champagne popped behind him, and he heard Alex pouring it into two glasses.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My plants passing muster?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure you were lying when you said you’d never cared for any before.”  Michael admitted with a laugh.  They were all well placed, none were too soggy or too dry.  He didn’t even need to perk them up.  Something about that just made him warm inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I read up.  Mind coming to get yours?  Hard to carry when I’m on this crutch.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael jumped a bit, turning to help him.  “Oh.  Right.”  And he stopped, laughing.  Alex had poured the champagne into solo cups.  “Classy, Alex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t bothered with a dish set yet.” Alex admitted, wryly, letting Michael take both cups to the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you waiting for, your wedding registry?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex blinked as he was easing onto the couch, staring at him.  “Ah.”  Laughing a little.  “Just had other stuff on my mind, I guess.”  And that look he leveled at Michael left no doubts as to just what other stuff was on his mind.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael grinned a little, taking a sip of his champagne.  “Mn.  I know that feeling.”  He paused for a moment, tried to ignore the electricity crackling around them.  “I gotta say.  I was a little surprised when you asked me out, the other night.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?”  Alex asked, leaning back against the couch, arm stretched over it, fingers brushing Michael’s arm, gently.  Maddeningly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I figured you weren’t ready for that?”  He said slowly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael, I already told you I liked you.”  Alex said, exasperated.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”  He said, quickly.  “That’s not actually what I’m talking about.”  He watched Alex quirk one of his perfect brows.  “Just… got the impression that you weren’t really fully </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dancing at Planet 7 wasn’t out enough for you?”  Alex asked with a disbelieving laugh.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shook his head a little.  “It’s different in a place like that.  No one’s looking. Well..”  He laughed.  “Plenty of people were </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I guess.  But no one was judging.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex took a deep breath, and a deep drink of the champagne.  “Yeah.  You’re right.”  He fiddled with the cup a little.  “And maybe it’s unfair, asking you to give me a chance when I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”  Michael said quickly.  Shifting to catch Alex’s hand in his own.  “It isn’t that.  I just. I want to know what page you’re on.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looked at him, tilting his head with a smile that started pained and relaxed, slowly.  “I wish I knew.”  He said, softly.  “I wasn’t lying when I said this was all new.  I think it’s gonna take a minute for me to catch up.”  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I get it.”  Michael nodded.  “I can back off.  If you want.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  That’s just it.”  Alex shook his head.  “I don’t want that.  I just.  My dad’s pretty homophobic, you know? That’s why he shipped me off. Weirdly, military school and the air force were </span>
  <em>
    <span>less</span>
  </em>
  <span> shitty.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael listened, nodding, letting his fingers stroke over his hand gently.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex grabbed the bottle, pouring more champagne.  “It’s weird.  I thought that when I got discharged, I’d be freer to be myself.  But then I came back here, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old ghosts.”  Michael filled in, softly.  He got it.  Not in the same way, but still more than Alex could know.  Squeezing his hand, he leaned in for a soft, slow kiss.  “Would it help to take things a little slower?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Alex protested quickly.  “I want this.”  He said, softly, reaching for Michael, stroking his cheek, then burying fingers in his hair.  “I want you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael leaned into his hand, hoping that it didn’t seem too desperate.  “Well, good.  Feeling’s mutual,” he murmured, leaning in for a slow, soft kiss.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed against his lips, keeping Michael close even as the kiss ended.  “Why does it always feel like a storm’s coming when you’re around?”  He asked, shaking his head a little.  “Seriously, it just smells like the sky’s gonna open and unleash god’s wrath on us.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael flushed. “Maybe it’s my aftershave?”  He supplied, lamely.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.”  Alex said, dipping his head to kiss his jaw, slowly.  “I think it’s just you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that.  Well, it was, when it came to him, but Liz had mentioned it offhand about Max often enough that it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> big of a surprise.  Always seemed stupid romantic, and he’d made fun of Max more than once over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Funny, being on the receiving end of it didn’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>nearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> as cheesy. He reached to tug Alex’s head up, to kiss him again, deeply, until they were both breathless, foreheads resting against each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh before I forget.”  Alex murmured, pulling back to look at Michael, seriously.  “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a squeak in my bedframe.”  Alex managed to get through that with a straight face, and Michael spent a moment staring at him, processing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…”  Nice, man.  Super eloquent.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t always do it so we might need to do a little troubleshooting.”  Alex grinned slowly, grabbing his crutch to get up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael finished the last of his champagne, getting up to follow him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this time, it wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t desperate.  Alex wasn’t running away, or nudging him out of bed. He didn’t complain when Michael wrapped himself around him tight and tangled their legs together, as if he was trying to fuse them together.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a really good start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmn.”  Michael said, later.  Dipping his head to kiss Alex’s shoulder, looking up at him, mischievously.  “Didn’t notice any creaks in the bed.  I’m beginning to suspect that there never was one.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looked over at him, and laughed.  “Oh no.  You’ve seen through my ploy.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.”  Michael smiled up at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> the softness in his face.  “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”  Alex said, softly, idly stroking his fingers through his hair.  “I was starting to run out of excuses to see you, and I didn’t want to have to start breaking things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t do that.”  Michael said, shaking his head and pressing his face into his shoulder, to hide a smile.  “Spending time with you doesn’t need to be business.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”  Alex’s voice was full of lazy, warm amusement.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely no.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>All</span>
  </em>
  <span> pleasure.”  Michael murmured, leaning up for a kiss.  “Speaking of.  I gotta call in or Blaire’s going to give me </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much shit.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You work </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much.”  Alex sighed against his mouth.  “I’m gonna be a terrible influence, aren’t I?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I knew I was fucked the </span>
  <em>
    <span>minute</span>
  </em>
  <span> I met you, Alex.”  he smirked, and leaned in for another kiss.  </span>
</p>
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